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WHAT TO DO 

THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 

TWELVE MONTHS OF HAPPY ACTIVITIES 

FOR CHILDREN 



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WMT TO DO 
TIIL>VHOLtYEARTliROl]GH 

Twelve MoatKs of Hsv-piy 
Activities for CKUdrcrx 

by 

HEBA MAHAN STEVENS 

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LOTHROF! LEE & SHEPARD CO. 

BOSTON 

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Copyright, 1929, 

By Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 

All Rights Reserved 

What to Do the Whole Year Through 


PRII'XTED'' 


IN u. s. A. 


/IPff ~s igpg 

©CIA 6393 




TO 


MARY AND JANE 

FROM 

MOTHER 


I 


CONTENTS 

JANUARY 

CHAPTEB 

I Making A Charm-string . 

FEBRUARY 

II Making Paper Dolls . . . . 

MARCH 

III Building a Home for Jenny 
Wren. 


APRIL 

IV Easter-Egg Dolls . 

MAY 

V May Baskets . . . . 

JUNE 

VI Paint-Pots and Tin Cans . 

JULY 

VII Little Dressmakers . 

7 


PAGE 

9 

23 

37 

53 

65 

79 


95 


8 CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PACE 

AUGUST 

VIII Pots of Paint and Pieces of Oil¬ 
cloth .109 

SEPTEMBER 

IX Teapot Stands That Came out 

OF THE Flower Garden . . . 123 

OCTOBER 

X A Scrap-book House . . . .139 

NOVEMBER 

XI The “Rainy Day Grocery” . . 151 

•1 


DECEMBER 
XII Christmas Gifts 


. 167 




9 





































r 




WHAT TO DO THE WHOLE 
YEAR THROUGH 

JANUARY 

MAKING A CHARM-STRING 

S CRUNCH—scrunch—scrunch, 
crisp and cheery, every footstep 
through the snow sang a wintry 
song to Mary. How she loved it! All the 
way up the street to Jane’s, she reveled in 
the beauty of the white landscape. For 
two days the snow had come down, some¬ 
times drifting along lazily in great fleecy 
flakes, like children loitering home from 
school; sometimes whirling and danc¬ 
ing in-a wild frolic; and sometimes blow- 


II 


12 


WHAT TO DO 


ing hard and fast before the cold wind, 
as though they were out on a very neces¬ 
sary errand. 

But, this morning, the sun shone over 
a still, white blanket that sparkled like 
the diamond dust on a Christmas orna¬ 
ment. Some of the big, square houses 
looked like immense cakes, Mary 
thought, all covered with beautiful white 
icing—and the chimneys, with the soft 
curling smoke—“Why, they are the can¬ 
dles!” she said to herself, with a short 
hop of delight. Every post had its white 
cap; every vine, and branch, and tiniest 
twig had its neat little covering’of tightly 
packed flakes. 

Yesterday, she had seen those flakes 
through a magnifying-glass. Over and 
over again, her father had caught them 
out of the whirling cloud on his dark 


THE fVHOLE YEAR THROUGH 13 

coat sleeve, and let her look at them. 
What a surprise to find that each tiny 
flake was really what father called a 
“perfect crystal,” and had a pattern all 
its own, of lines and bars and angles! 
Except for the darkness coming down, 
they must surely have missed their sup¬ 
per, for Mary had been fascinated with 
the business of catching and examining 
these lovely things. 

Every day had so many happy things 
in it, thought Mary as she tramped 
along, and, now, ahead of her was an¬ 
other day with Jane, and at least a part 
of it was to be spent outdoors playing in 
the snow. 

Bundled in warm coats and gloves, 
what a morning they made of it, doing 
all the jolly things that little girls know 
how to do with a January day! The 


14 


WHAT TO DO 


longer they played, the redder became 
their tiny noses and the more their 
cheeks looked like round, rosy apples. 
And before they came in, the most mar¬ 
velous snow man stood in the center of 
the garden with his broomstick arms 
stretched out, for all the world like a 
traffic policeman. 

Before lunch could be served, every 
member of the family must take a good 
look at him from the kitchen window. 
All during the meal, Mary and Jane 
kept up a perfect chatter, describing 
how they had gone about the making of 
this wonderful creature; but before the 
afternoon was well started, he had lost 
his interest for them, and there came the 
old question, “Mother, what shall we 
do now?” 

“Well, I know one thing you might 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 15 

do,” was Mother’s instant reply. “You 
have thought only of your own pleasure 
so far to-day. Now why not do some¬ 
thing to give happiness to some one else, 
this afternoon?- Why not go next door 
and visit Mrs. Krum? She doesn’t get 
out much this snowy weather, and I’m 
sure nothing would make her happier 
than a neighborly call from two little 
girls.” 

“Let’s!” agreed Mary who had some 
very nice memories of this little old lady. 
There was the time the gingerbread men 
had been handed out from the kitchen 
window w’ith a twinkly smile; and the 
time when baking pans were badly 
needed in the sand pile, and a supply 
came from this same window; besides 
the cunning rag rugs for their doll¬ 
houses, done on the front porch one 


WHAT TO DO 


i6 

lovely summer day. So her “Let’s!” 
came with enthusiasm, and it brought 
the same sort of happy response from 
Jane: 

“Let’s do; let’s go now and stay all 
afternoon!” 

They found Mrs. Krum sitting in her 
cozy window, with Pert, the canary, 
singing in his cage, and Ferdinand, the 
cat, lying asleep before the fireplace. 
Oh, yes indeed, a cat and a canary, for 
Mrs. Krum said there wasn’t one single 
bit of sense in thinking that a cat and a 
canary couldn’t be good friends and live 
peaceably together—and, after all, there 
isn’t, you know. So Ferdinand WAS 
sleeping on the hearth and Pert WAS 
singing in his cage—and Mrs. Krum? 
Well, a big, ruffly apron covered her lap, 
and it was full of buttons—buttons, but- 




THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 17 

tons, buttons, of every size and kind and 
color. 

“What are you doing?” exclaimed 
Jane in amazement, as she pulled off her 
storm boots. 

Mrs. Krum’s eyes twinkled. “Fm put¬ 
ting some new twine in my charm¬ 
string.” 

“Your what?” and Jane came closer 
to see what she might mean. “What is a 
charm-string, Fd like to know?” 

“Deary me! Deary, deary me!” said 
Mrs. Krum. And then she stopped rock¬ 
ing and said, “Deary me!” again. “Can 
it be, can it really be that a little girl can 
grow so tall and not know what a charm¬ 
string is—and not have one all her 
own?” 

When both Mary and Jane had to ac¬ 
knowledge that they had never even 



i8 WHAT TO DO 

heard of such a thing as a charm-string, 
Mrs. Krum said, “Deary me!” again in 
the most disappointed way. And then 
immediately her gentle face brightened. 

“Well,” said she in her brisk way, 
“we’ll start in this very minute to begin 
your charm-strings—one for each of 
you, and I shall have the honor of put¬ 
ting on the first buttons.” 

While she busied herself getting them 
each a length of fine, stout cord, she 
went on to tell them that, of all the dear 
things of her little-girl days, nothing had 
given her more joy than her precious 
collection of buttons, gathered here and 
there from aunties, and grandmothers, 
and other friends, which she called her 
“charm-string.” 

“Why, we used to count our buttons 
every night; and every morning at 



THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 19 

school, there was great rivalry to see 
which girl had the most and the prettiest 
on her string. It was one of the very 
nicest things we did for amusement, dur¬ 
ing the long winter months indoors. You 
see, we used a great many buttons on our 
dresses in those days—whole rows of 
them down the front, and whole rows of 
them down the back. Even little girls 
had their dresses buttoned from neck to 
waist behind with buttons set quite close 
together—and we wore our hair in long 
braids, too.” She paused to look back to 
her schoolgirl days with the sweetest 
smile and the twinkliest eyes. 

“Didn’t your hair get caught on all 
those buttons?” asked Mary. 

“It surely did,” laughed Mrs. Krum. 
“Oftentimes, at night, we found wisps 
of hair around the buttons. Wasn’t it 


/ 




20 


WHAT TO DO 


queer that, if we were going to wear 
long hair, no one thought to put the 
buttons in front where they wouldn’t 
bother?” and she smoothed Jane’s shiny 
black bob admiringly. 

Such a store of buttons Mrs. Krum 

\ 

had, saved from many a cast-off gar¬ 
ment. She brought out more than one 
box of them, and they went through 
them all, turning and, handling the 
pretty things with glad cries of excite¬ 
ment and admiration. Buttons, buttons, 
buttons, of every kind! Glass ones of 
every color, clear and shiny; lovely vel¬ 
vet ones; gold ones with delicate tracery 
cut into their bright surface; some made 
from metal with a dog, a bird, and even 
a house stamped into their centers; glit¬ 
tering jet, cut so that they had the sparkle 
of black jewels; round and square; thick 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 21 


and thin; tiny, tiny ones that looked too 
small to be of any service, and great 
ponderous ones that seemed too large for 
use. Red ones, green ones, blue ones, 
black, gold, purple—buttons, buttons! 
And what was still more delightful, 
stories, it seemed, went with them all. 
This one had been to a grand ball; that 
one had adorned a velvet gown that had 
watched a President ride by; the scarlet 
one had gone to the opera; and the del¬ 
icate white one had graced a wedding 
gown. 

Then and there, two charm-strings 
were started, and two little enthusiasts 
began making plans for their explora¬ 
tions in search of buttons. Before an¬ 
other week was ended, charm-strings 
were the most popular thing in the 
neighborhood. Every mother, or auntie. 



22 


WHAT TO DO 


or grandmother who had a stock of but¬ 
tons, found herself answering the door¬ 
bell, over and over again, to meet the 
eager question from some small friend, 
“Would you please give me a button for 
my charm-string?” 

Jane’s father said it seemed to him 
the whole neighborhood was playing, 
“Button, button, who has the button?”; 
Mary’s father said he was glad the but¬ 
tons on his clothes were plain bone ones, 
or he might be teased to part with them; 
Mrs. Krum told Pert, the canary, and 
Ferdinand, the cat, that she had always 
known lovely things never grow old nor 
lose their charm; and a dozen or more 
little girls carried their treasures about 
in boxes and told each other that they 
were never, never going to part with 
their precious charm-strings! 

















































FEBRUARY 


MAKING PAPER DOLLS 

D addy had read from the 
morning paper, at the break¬ 
fast table, “Variable weather.” 
It seemed a pretty big word to Jane, but 
when Daddy told her it meant another 
day such as the one before had been, she 
nodded her small head wisely. 

“Oh yes, it means changeable,” she 
ventured, “I see!” 

And the weather man had been ex¬ 
actly right. The day had indeed been 
variable! It started out with a fog that 
lay like a beautiful, gray blanket over 
everything, and made the houses and 


25 



26 


WHAT TO DO 


trees look soft, and shadowy with hazy, 
uncertain outlines. After a time, the fog 
lifted and out popped the sun. But, be¬ 
fore long, the wind whisked up some 
clouds and chased the sunshine away. 
Then came a hard, splashing shower 
that presently ended as suddenly as it 
had begun. After that, the wind again, 
then wild little flurries of surprised 
snowflakes, and more blustery wind. 
Variable indeed! 

But inside, Mary and Jane had been 
as happy as two busy bees tucked snugly 
in a warm hive. The doll-house had been 
dusted and cleaned from top to bottom, 
all the rooms had been entirely re¬ 
arranged and set in order, and now that 
lunch was over and they had finished 
helping Mother with the dishes, they 
stood arm in arm, looking proudly at the 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 27 

doll family. How primly diey all sat 
about the wee rooms—the mother at the 
tiny piano playing a tune that not every¬ 
one could hear; the father, stiffly erect 
on the red plush couch; up in the nurs¬ 
ery, two very pink celluloid babies 
tucked up in a pasteboard cradle; at the 
door, a huge dog; in the kitchen, a pink¬ 
faced maid, standing beside the stove 
watching a rather dusty egg cook in its 
pan. Everything seemed to be as cor¬ 
rect as could be wished for in any well 
regulated doll family. Plainly, there 
was no more that two little girls could 
do there. 

The afternoon looked rather unprom¬ 
ising. Valentine Day had taken a great 
deal of preparation, and there had been 
long hours of working together with 
lacy paper and red hearts. But that was 


28 


WHAT TO DO 


past, and all the gay things that went 
with it were tucked away. Washington’s 
birthday had been a busy time, what 
with getting ready for their play about 
Betsy Ross and the first flag, and then 
giving it in the big front room before an 
audience of mothers and baby sisters and 
brothers. But now the cotton wigs and 
flowered skirts were folded away up¬ 
stairs. There seemed nothing special to 
interest them—nothing to be done. 

Big Sister sat before the crackling 
hearth-fire, and in her lap was a huge 
pile of fashion magazines. Jane and 
Mary knew very well that she was hunt¬ 
ing for a way to make her new dance 
frock, and once in a while they peeped 
over her shoulder to see some pretty 
thing which she exclaimed about. 

Finally—“What shall we do now?”— 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 29 

out popped the question, the old, old 
question. And when Big Sister had 
heard it several times, and each time in a 
more discontented tone, she put down 
her magazines and asked, “Did you ever 
try paper dolls?” 

“Oh yes,” they told her—they had a 
whole family that Jane had bought with 
her birthday money. 

“I know about those,” said Big Sis¬ 
ter,” but I mean the kind you make your¬ 
self out of ladies cut from fashion 
pages.” 

“No,” they said, but it came so half¬ 
heartedly that she saw there was not 
much interest or enthusiasm back of it. 
So, forgetting herself and her own plans, 
she came to their rescue and, while the 
wind and rain and snow did all sorts of 
queer things outside, two little little- 



30 


WHAT TO DO 


girls and one big little-girl were soon 
absorbed in the business of making a 
marvelous array of fashionable ladies. 

First, they begged Mother for some 
pasteboard cartons that had held break¬ 
fast cereal. How lucky that Mother had 
thought to stack them away! But, well. 
Mother knew that there was always a 
chance of some one needing cardboard 
around a house where lively little girls 
played. Next, from old magazines, they 
chose their ladies, • and these were 
roughly torn out and pasted onto the 
cardboard. After that, they were cut 
out carefully. Big Sister told them she 
used to press them between books to 
make them quite flat and dry, but she 
had thought of a better scheme, so she 
took them to the kitchen and ironed 
them out. There they were, as stiff and 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 31 

nice as any dolls they had ever bought, 
and “My! what a lot of them we can 
make just for nothing!” piped Mary. 

“We need a lot of them,” said Big Sis¬ 
ter,” because some of them are to have 
their clothes glued on.” 

That sounded rather queer to Mary 
and Jane but, after one had been dressed, 
they were fascinated with the result. 

“Oh, the darling, darling thing!” ex¬ 
claimed Jane. 

And “Isn’t she dear!” came from 
Mary. 

Big Sister had chosen a strip of filmy 
lace for a skirt and, after gathering it at 
the top, had pasted it fast to the paper 
doll. Around the waist-line, she had 
draped a bit of a scarlet silk sash, and, at 
one side, placed an ornament made from 
some tiny scraps of ostrich feather. One 


32 • WHAT TO DO 

plain piece of lace was drawn around 
the figure for a waist and pasted down on 
the back, then wee shoulder straps were 
fastened in place. 

“It doesn’t much matter how the back 
looks,” she laughed. “At least, it never 
did to me, because I kept this kind all 
pasted in a big book.” 

“This kind? Is there still another 
kind?” was the excited inquiry. 

“Indeed there is! I made boxes and 
boxes of dresses to take off and put on 
some of my dolls. Guess what I made 
them of?” was her mischievous ques¬ 
tion, as she looked through their pieces 
for just the gayest bit of ribbon to be 
found. 

“Paper!” was their adventurous guess. 

“Yes, paper, but you would never 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 33 

imagine what sort of paper, so I’ll have 
to tell you. Wall-paper!” 

“Oh, we have a whole book of that— 
the old sample book the man gave 
Mother!” and Jane flew to bring it from 
its hiding-place. 

“It makes the dearest dresses, because 
there are so many different designs and 
colors. You can make dozens and dozens 
of them, and have no two alike,” Big Sis¬ 
ter said, as she deftly made them a pat¬ 
tern, doubling the paper, cutting it into 
the shape of a dress, and leaving a 
square neck opening to slip over the 
doll’s head. The bottom of the skirt, she 
cut into scallops and, above these, she 
made a tiny lace-like trimming by 
punching rows of holes with a knitting- 
needle. 


34 


WHAT TO DO 


The second gown had a deep border 
at the bottom, made from the edge of a 
lace-paper doilie; while another was 
decorated with tiny gilt stars left over 
from Christmas-package time. More 
than one of them had sashes of ribbon 
that could be tied about to hold them in 
place. 

Big Sister left them with their models 
and went back to her own fashion plan¬ 
ning, and, fresh from the designing of 
these small costumes, in no time at all 
she had worked out a way, “a perfectly 
darling way,” she said, to make into a 
frock the lovely peachy silk Mother had 
helped her choose. 

And oh, as the afternoon went by, 
such beautiful, beautiful gowns as were 
made for the small paper ladies. Such 
stacks of wall-paper dresses, such num- 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 35 

bers of ladies to be pasted into books 
later. Billowy skirts of soft silks and 
laces, ornaments of tiny flowers and 
spangles, strings of fairy-like beads 
hung about their necks and bits of spar¬ 
kling things fastened on as slipper 
buckles. Sometimes a hat was added by 
winding a strip of velvet around the 
head and fixing on a speck of feather or 
flower. They found there was just no 
end to the things they could do in out¬ 
fitting such ladies and, long before they 
were ready for it, the darkness was com¬ 
ing down, and it was time for Mary to 
go scampering home to her own fire¬ 
side. 

With her dolls tucked snugly in her 
big pockets to keep them safe from the 
blustery wind and the few stray drops 
of rain that still came splashing down 


36 


WHAT TO DO 


sometimes, she went dancing around the 
corner, waving a loving good-by to Jane, 
and down, down the street, happiness 
behind her, happiness waiting in front 
of her, and happiness deep in her own 
little heart. 



37 



































t 

'! 



MARCH 


BUILDING A HOME FOR JENNY WREN 


R ound and round the block 
Jane and Mary had gone, on 
their roller skates, thoroughly 
in love with the blustery March morn¬ 
ing. The wind which was whipping, and 
flapping, and banging, and chasing, and 
scurrying everything below, and rolling 
great, gray clouds across the blue sky 
above, had blown roses into their 
cheeks, and blue into their eyes, and 
finally sent them tumbling joyously 
into the library for a rest. As they sat 
munching their big, red apples, from 
the basement just beneath them came a 


39 


40 


WHAT TO DO 


“tap-tap, tap-tap-tap,” and then some¬ 
times a quiet, happy whistling. 

“What is that tap-tapping down 
there?” suddenly asked Mary. 

“Oh, that’s Daddy. He’s at home this 
Saturday, and he is making a bird-house. 
I forgot—he said he wanted us to come 
down and see it.” And up-jumped two 
little girls and went racing down the 
stairs as fast as their legs would carry 
them. 

Father was at his work-bench, and 
sure enough, he was making a wonder¬ 
ful house, so large that Mary exclaimed, 
“Why, that looks like a doll-house! It 
isn’t a house for birds, is it?” 

“Yes,” Father told her, “it is a bird- 
house, but not for just one family. It is a 
martin house, and martins live in col¬ 
onies, or families, so we have learned to 



THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 41 

build their homes somewhat like little 
apartment buildings.” 

Then he waited patiently while they 
looked into each tiny window, and in¬ 
spected every small room. 

“My!” said Mary, as she ran her hand 
lovingly over the neat little porch roof 
and the wee pillars which held it in 
place. “My! it must be a lot of fun to 
build bird-houses!” 

“That’s just what I think,” agreed 

/ 

Jane. “Don’t you wish we were boys? 
The boys at school are all building them. 
They are going to have an exhibition, 
next week. But girls can’t build even 
bird-houses, I guess.” 

Father looked up quickly at this dis¬ 
contented remark, and smiled at his 
small daughter. Then, suddenly, he laid 
his hammer down with a bang, and said. 


42 


WHAT TO DO 


“Whew! I’ve just been struck with a 
great big ideal Look here! I don’t see 
why girls can’t make bird-houses just as 
well as boys can. Would you like to 
try it?” 

“Yes! Yes!” they chorused, throwing 
their arms tightly about him. 

“May we really?” demanded Jane. 

“When may we do it?” questioned 
Mary. 

“Why not do it this very forenoon? 
You see, it isn’t long until the birds will 
be coming back to us, and they like to 
find plenty of houses ready to choose 
from. I imagine they like to feel that we 
have been looking forward to their com¬ 
ing and have been getting ready for 
them.” 

“The way we do for company,” sug¬ 
gested Jane. 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 43 

“Exactly!” was Father’s reply. “And 
now, if you really want to make some 
bird-houses, what kind will it be, I won¬ 
der? Every bird wants a certain style of 
house, you see, just as every bird builds 
a different kind of nest.” 

“I love Jenny Wren,” said Mary, 
“and I’d like to build a wren-house. My 
Auntie has a wren-house close by her 
kitchen door, and when I was there last 
summer, and swung in the hammock, 
Jenny flew back and forth feeding her 
babies and didn’t mind me a bit!” 

“That’s exactly like Jenny Wren,” 
laughed Father. “Of all the song-birds 
we have, she is the most friendly and 
trusting. She dearly loves to be near peo¬ 
ple, and sometimes she builds her nest in 
the oddest places—in the pocket of a 
coat which has been left hanging on an 



44 


WHAT TO DO 


open porch, in a basket, or a box. And I 
have even heard of a wren’s nest which 
was built in the hat of a scarecrow. How 
about it, Jane, do you want to build a 
house for Jenny Wren, too?” 

“Of course, that’s the very one I want 
to make,” was the eager reply. 

“Very well, then,” Father said, “we’ll 
start at once. And now, tell me,” he went 
on, in a most businesslike manner, 
“what did Cinderella do when the old 
godmother told her to go into the garden 
and fetch a pumpkin?” 

“She went,” replied Jane, and Mary 
added promptly, “And she didn’t ask 
why!” 

“Fine! You have the idea,” laughed 
Father. “Well, first of all, take an old 
basket and go up to the next block 
where the workmen cut down that big 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 45 

elm last week. Gather up all the large 

pieces of bark that your basket will hold, 

and bring them here.” 

The basket found, two little girls went 
» 

away, in great excitement, on their mys¬ 
terious errand. When they returned, and 
dumped the pieces of shaggy bark on 
the basement floor. Father asked again, 
“What did Cinderella do when her god¬ 
mother sent her for the mice?” 

“She went right away,” again an¬ 
swered Jane. 

“And she didn’t ask why,” finished 
Mary. 

“Good!” and giving Jane a coin, he 
went on, “Now you are to go over to Mr. 
Bowman’s ice-cream store on Main 
Street, and buy four two-quart contain¬ 
ers—the round ones he puts our ice¬ 
cream in, nowadays. We could get some 



46 


WHAT TO DO 


oatmeal boxes from Mother, perhaps, 
that would be the same shape, but Mr. 
Bowman’s containers are waxed and will 
keep dry more easily.” 

True to their agreement, Jane and 
Mary went skipping away without ask¬ 
ing a single question, but wondering 
very much what these things had to do 
with building a bird-house. Back again 
with their purchases, they found Father 
quite ready to help them get started with 
their work. 

First, in one end of each container, he 
cut a circular hole about the size of a 
quarter. 

“Jenny is a very tiny bird,” he told 
them. “We must make the opening just 
large enough for her to go through com-' 
fortably, but not so large that another 
bird might be tempted to make use of 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 47 

her home. You are each to build two 
houses, and now you are ready for your 
part of the work.” 

“Oh, we are going to make two!” re¬ 
peated Jane. “Why, Daddy, why are we 
going to make two?” 

“Because Jenny raises two broods 
each summer, but she does not use the 
same nest for both of them. Even before 
her first babies have learned to fly, she 
starts getting the new nest ready for the 
second brood. So you see, we must pro¬ 
vide another nesting place close by, if 
we want to keep her near us for the 
whole summer.” 

It did not take Father long to explain 
this simple little house to them. The bark 
was to be laid carefully around the con¬ 
tainer so that its surface should be en¬ 
tirely covered, and then tied firmly in 


48 


WHAT TO DO 


place with strong cord, wound around 
each end and the middle. The bark was 
cut several inches longer than the con¬ 
tainer so that Jenny might enjoy a tiny 
porch in front, a shelter to keep out the 
rain. 

While they worked, and Father put a 
few finishing touches on his martin- 
house, he told them some things about 
Jenny Wren that made them love her 
more than ever. 

“You’ve heard her sing, of course, 
haven’t you?’’ he asked. “Her song is a 
beautiful one—so loud, and clear, and 
bubbling over with happiness that, when 
we hear it and then look at the tiny 
singer, we wonder how she does it.” 

“I guess her happiness is bigger than 
she is,” was Jane’s solution, to which 
Father agreed. 



THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 49 

“I suppose that girls who are in the 
Fifth Grade know there are reasons for 
wanting the birds here, other than sim¬ 
ply because we love their songs. You 
know they eat the insects which destroy 
our fruit and grain, don’t you? So they 
really help to grow the things which we 
use for food. It does seem to me, too, 
that after they have helped with our har¬ 
vests, we might take a little more care to 
see that they have food at all times of the 
year. We used to think the birds went 
south in the winter on account of the 
cold, but we have learned that it is more 
because they cannot get food enough to 
eat here during those months.” 

“If we put out food for them, would 
they stay all winter?” questioned Mary, 
as she tugged away at tying her heavy 
cord in place. 


so 


WHAT TO DO 


“Very likely many of them would. 
Some of them stay now, where thought¬ 
ful people keep food out for them in 
sheltered nooks. But what fine workmen 
you are—why, your houses are all but 
done.” 

Indeed they were all but done. Four 
little barrel-like affairs they were, look¬ 
ing, in their coats of bark, for all the 
world like pieces cut out of the limb of a 
tree. All that remained to be done was to 
tie long pieces of the strong cord to each 
end for hanging them. 

“There!” said Father, as the last knot 
was tied, “who .says girls can’t build 
bird-houses? All we need to do now is 
to find a safe place, hang them up, and 
wait for our little friends to look them 
over. We all have any number of friends 
who walk about on two feet. I think it is 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 51 


a good thing to have some friends with 
wings, don’t you?” 

Mary could hardly wait to get her 
treasures home for her mother to see, and 
as she went hippety-hopping down the 
street with one dear little house under 
each arm, she sang to the March wind a 
song she had known since kindergarten 
days: 


“Little brown sparrows. 

Flying around. 

Up in the tree-tops, 

Down on the ground, 

“Come to my window. 

Dear sparrows, come! 

See 1 I will give you 
Many a crumb.” * 

* From “The Sparrows” in FINGER PLAYS, by Emilie Pouls- 
son. Published by Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 


'If .1 






53 





























































APRIL 


EASTER-EGG DOLLS 

S KIPPETY-HIPPETY, hippety- 
skippety, up the street went 
Mary, on a rainy spring morn¬ 
ing. It was Saturday, and she was on her 
way to Jane’s. 

She had no idea what they would do 
to-day to have a good time. And when 
she was inside, quite dry and ready to 
play, she found that Jane had no plans, 
either. 

“Shall we play school?” asked the 
small hostess. 

But no, it seemed that neither of them 
cared much about playing school this 


55 


56 


WHAT TO DO 


morning. The doll-house, too, appeared 
to have lost its charm for them. Drawing 
and coloring were tried and put aside. 
Big Sister was at work in the kitchen, 
and when the warm, sweet smell of gin¬ 
ger cookies drew them there, they grew 
more cheerful. But the cookies having 
been eaten, the question arose again, 
“What shall we do now?” and they car¬ 
ried their problem to Mother who was 
busy at work up-stairs. Just what she 
was doing, Jane did not know, but she 
had been told that they might come up 
whenever they wished. 

“What shall we do now. Mother?” 
was the rather petulant question which 
Jane brought to the door of the sewing- 
room. 

Mother looked up from her work and 
smiled gayly at them. 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH si 

“Well, first of all, and right this min¬ 
ute,” she said, “you might come in and 
see what I am doing.” 

Mother’s table was cluttered with all 
sorts of things—scraps of silks and vel¬ 
vets, bits of lace, feathers and flowers, 
gilt cord, lengths of ribbon, yarn, and 
floss, a box of paints, and, what seemed 
strangest of all, a box of whole egg¬ 
shells. 

Jane took one up in her hand. 

“Oh, how light and funny it feels!” 
she piped. When Mary lifted it, she 
giggled, “Why, it doesn’t feel at all!” 

Mother explained how she had taken 
the inside part of the egg out without 
breaking the shell. 

“Well, I did break it a little, you see. 
Here on the small end, I made a tiny hole 
with a darning needle. All winter, I have 


IVHAT TO DO 


58 

been saving them. Whenever I did not 
have to keep the white part separate from 
the yellow, in cooking, I made an open¬ 
ing like this, and shook gently until the 
inside part all came out. Then I washed 
the shell carefully inside and out, dried 
it, and put it away to wait for this very 
day. 

“What are you doing with them?” 
questioned Mary. 

“Making Easter-egg dolls,” Mother 
told them. “And having such fun doing 
it!” 

Then she showed them the finished 
dolls which she had put carefully away 
in a dresser drawer, dolls of all sorts— 
a fashionable lady with sweeping plumes 
on her picture hat, a grandmother whose 
snowy hair was made of cotton, George 
and Martha Washington, a college grad- 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 59 

uate in cap and gown, a young girl with 
a bit of fur about her neck and a fasci¬ 
nating hat of gold lace, a baby, and a 
funny clown with his tall hat made of 
paper. 

Such excited little admirers! Such oh’s 
and O my’s! Such tender handling of 
the fragile little beauties. 

“They are for Big Sister’s luncheon 
favors,” they were informed. “Do 
you think her club sisters will like 
them?” 

“Oh, how could they help liking 
them?” was the enthusiastic reply. 

Mother said she hoped they would 
enjoy having them as much as she was 
enjoying making them. 

“I feel like Jenny Wren, the doll dress¬ 
maker in one of Charles Dickens’ stor¬ 
ies. Do you know about her? No? Well, 


6 o 


WHAT TO DO 


then we have a story waiting for us this 
afternoon, haven’t we?” 

She was turning back to her work 
when she stopped suddenly and said, “I 
wonder if you wouldn’t like to be doll 
dressmakers, too? Would you like to 
make some dolls for yourselves?” 

Shining eyes and hops of delight told 
her their answer, even before Jane ex¬ 
claimed, “Oh, wouldn’t it be fun! I’d 
love to I But could we? I don’t believe we 
could ever make such pretty ones as 
yours.” 

“Perhaps not quite so perfect as 
mine,” Mother made answer, “but I am 
sure you could make some very nice 
ones.” 

The sewing-table was brought out, 
and, seated within easy reach of all 
things that might be needed, two happy 


THE IVHOLE YEAR THROUGH 6i 

little girls were soon busy at work. 

First, with a pencil, Mother sketched 
on each shell, eyes, mouth, and two dots 
to serve as a nose. Then these were 
painted with the water-colors—blue 
eyes, red lips, brown nose and eyebrows, 
while the cheeks were tinted pink. They 
were delighted to find how quickly the 
paint dried, so there was no tiresome 
waiting. 

Mary decided to make a baby doll, and 
Jane thought .she would try an old- 
fashioned schoolgirl. Both used soft 
brown yarn for the hair, and both made 
bangs of it, pasting it to the top of the 
shell, patting it down into place, and 
trimming it off even. 

Jane made braids for her schoolgirl, 
and fastened them to the back, letting 
them fall over each shoulder. Out of a 



62 


WHAT TO DO 


piece of silk stocking, she made a stock¬ 
ing cap which she slipped on, and as she 
looked at it, somehow she couldn’t help 
thinking of the picture of Mother, up¬ 
stairs, taken when she was a little girl, 
too. 

Mary fashioned a bonnet of pink 
crepe paper for her baby doll by pasting 
a strip to the head and flaring it out into 
a wide frill about the face. Both heads 
were next fastened with sealing wax to 
pieces of stiff cardboard, three inches 
square. 

Jane put a little scarf of plaid woolen 
goods around her schoolgirl, while 
Mary wound a length of crepe paper 
about the baby’s neck, and tied it into a 
big bow under her chin. 

“Beautiful!” was Mother’s exclama¬ 
tion, when they were held before her for 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 63 

inspection. “Now that you have started, 
I suppose you will want to make dozens 
of them. And there is no reason why you 
shouldn’t. I think it is great fun, don’t 
you?” 

“Heaps and heaps of fun!” was what 
both little girls called it. 

And when Mary went home, skippety- 
hippety, hippety-skippety, down the 
street, she went just a bit more carefully 
than she had come, for in a box she car¬ 
ried her baby egg-doll and some extra 
shells and scraps of lace and silk which 
Mother had given her. 

This story originally appeared in “The Christian Science 
Monitor.” 




V 




65 

















































































































































V 41 



MAY 


MAY BASKETS 

F or a whole week there had been 
so little to remind any one that 
the beautiful month of May 
was close at hand that neither Jane nor 
any of her little friends had given it a 
thought. When little girls paddle to 
school in the morning through splashy 
puddles of water, and come skipping in 
out of the chilliness at night to play be¬ 
side an open hearth-fire, there is small 
chance that they will be thinking much 
of May blossoms or May baskets. 

But, deary me, on the last day of April 
the sun popped out from behind the 

67 


68 


WHAT TO DO 


clouds which had been hiding him, as 
warm and friendly as though he hadn’t 
minded them at all. Father quite forgot 
to build the hearth-fire, and Mother 
brought out a gingham dress for Jane to 
wear to school. Doors and windows were 
thrown open, and smiling people went 
about telling one another what a lovely 
morning it was, and that spring had 
really come at last. 

All the day was filled with pleasant 
things, it seemed. Jumping ropes came 
out from closets; roller skates clattered 
up the street carrying flying boys and 
girls; marbles were everywhere; and on 
the boys’ playground, there was a great 
shouting and running about with any 
number of balls and bats. 

Such an exciting day it was! And the 
excitement was by no means over when 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 69 


Mary and Jane came scampering up the 
street in the evening after school, and 
spied Mother sitting on the front porch. 

“Mother, Mother, what do you 
think!” called Jane, even before they 
were in the yard. And then, flopping 
down on the top step, she poured out a 
perfect jumble of information: 

“We are going to have a May-pole— 
Mr. Ford says the ground is dry, and he 
is setting up the big pole on the play¬ 
ground. They hadn’t done anything 
about it before, because they thought it 
might keep on raining and then we 
would all be disappointed. Miss Johnson 
read us about the things they used to do 
in England; they had a May queen and 
a pole—maybe we’ll have a queen, too— 
and they arranged a program this after¬ 
noon, and Mary and I told them we 


70 


IVHAT TO DO 


would do something—Mother, what 
shall we do? You tell us; we don’t know 
anything to do!” 

Mother laughed right out, such a 
clear, sparkling, happy laugh that a 
frisky little squirrel, that was nosing 
about under the elm-tree, sat up on his 
haunches and looked inquiringly at her 
with his sharp, black eyes. 

“It seems to me that you have a good 
deal of confidence in yourselves as en¬ 
tertainers to volunteer to take part in the 
program, when you have nothing you 
can do,” but the smile that went with her 
words made them know she was glad 
they had offered, anyway. 

“You’ll help us think of something, 
won’t you. Mother?” was the next anx¬ 
ious question. 

“I most surely will, my dear, just give 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 71 

me a few minutes’ time. I wonder, 
though, if you have forgotten about the 
May baskets. This is the night to hang 
them, you know.” 

Jane and Mary gave a gasp of aston¬ 
ishment, and from each of them came a 
prolonged “Oh-h-h.” In the excitement 
of school affairs. May baskets had been 
wholly forgotten. 

But now the remembrance of last 
year’s good time came back to them— 
the wonderful little baskets they had 
worked on for a whole week, and the 
beautiful things they had turned out to 
be when filled with jonquils and tulips 
and violets. Suddenly Jane’s smile faded. 

“Why, Mother, there isn’t a single 
flower anywhere,” she said, in despair. 

Mary’s voice was no more hopeful as 
she added, “And we haven’t time to 


72 


WHAT TO DO 


make baskets now, even if we had any¬ 
thing to put in them.” 

Mother laughed again so that the 
frisky little squirrel had to stop his work 
and take another sharp look at her. 

“Now don’t try to tell me,” she said, 
“that there isn’t a single flower any¬ 
where ! The world is full of flowers, and 
all we have to do is to hunt for them, you 
know. And as for time—why, there are 
two whole hours before supper.” 

“But last year,” Mary reminded her, 
“it took us days and days to make our 
baskets.” 

“Perhaps it did, last year,” laughed 
Mother, “but it can’t take you so long 
this year, if you want the fun of hanging 
them after supper. Besides, the pretti¬ 
ness of a thing does not always depend 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 73 

upon the length of time we spend in 
making it, you know. I think I have a 
suggestion for you.” 

Both clamored, “What is it? Oh, what 
is it?” 

First, they were sent to get some 
things in readiness, while Mother went 
to her stacks of music and searched 
through them, humming to herself in a 
puzzled sort of way. 

Library paste, the yarn bag, a pack¬ 
age of lace-paper doilies from the pan¬ 
try, and that familiar old friend, the 
big book of wall-paper samples, were 
brought. When Mother turned at last 
from her search, with a sheet of music 
in her hand, she found them all ready 
for work at the library table. 

“Fine!” was her word of praise for 


74 


WHAT TO DO 


their quickness. “Now we are going to 
see that our friends have their May-day 
greetings, in a hurry.” 

First, the gayest sheets of wall-paper 
were chosen. “For,” said Mother, “if we 
haven’t many flowers to put inside, we 
must put flowers on the outside, you see.” 

Circles were cut, most of them about 
nine inches in diameter. These circles 
were then cut into two equal parts, to be 
used for two different baskets. Each part 
was wound into a cornucopia and fast¬ 
ened with a few stitches of yarn, the ends 
being tied in a loose, flowing bow. Han¬ 
dles, too, long enough for reaching over 
door-knobs, were made of the same yarn. 

“My goodness!” ejaculated Jane, ju¬ 
bilantly,” we can make a thousand of 
these before supper!” 

A few were made from the lace-paper 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 75 

doilies, in exactly the same way. And 
then came the question, “There they are. 
Now, Mother, where are the flowers?” 

“Well, you could go over to Mr. San¬ 
der’s flower shop and get a box full of 
short-stemmed bits of blossoms, left 
from the day’s work, for only a few pen¬ 
nies, but let’s try to see what we can do 
in our own garden first.” 

It was quite surprising what they 
found. Many, many fresh, shiny violet 
leaves, and here and there, a few shy 
little purple blossoms; small branches 
from the peach-tree, covered with buds, 
the daintiest of pink edging their close- 
curled petals; a handful of crocus 
blooms; green shoots of iris; and some 
red berries still clinging to a sheltered 
rose-bush. Then, from her pot of trailing 
vines. Mother brought them enough 


WHAT TO DO 


76 

sprigs to finish out and make each bas¬ 
ket “as dainty as a spring morning,” she 
said. 

“Mary is to stay here for supper,” she 
told them, “and afterwards you may 
hang your baskets. Just now, while I am 
busy in the kitchen, I want you to see 
what you can do toward learning this 
old-fashioned May song.” 

“Oh, Mother,” exclaimed Jane, as 
they bent above it, heads together, “there 
are two verses—that’s one for Mary and 
one for me!” 

Such a scampering about through the 
warm darkness of that lovely April eve¬ 
ning ! Such tiptoeing, such excited little 
knocks, such hiding, and such shrieks of 
delighted surprise when, sometimes, they 
were caught! In between trips, they 
rushed in to the library, and sang over 



THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 77 

and over again the quaint little song, un¬ 
til they felt sure they knew it well enough 
to please even Miss Johnson. 

No one in all the land was happier 
than the two little girls who snuggled 
down in their beds, that night, to happy 
springtime dreams. And the next after¬ 
noon, when the May-pole ribbons were 
fluttering in the warm spring breeze, 
and all the children, with shining faces 
and sparkling eyes, stood about it, no 
one was happier than Mary in her blue 
dress and Jane in her pink dress, as they 
sang: 

Come boys, for it’s May time! 

Come girls, for it’s play time! 

Come, hang a May basket at somebody’s 
door! 

A starry-eyed crocus. 

Pink blossoms unfolding. 


78 


WHAT TO DO 


With jonquils and violets 

Safe in its holding; 

Come, hang a May basket at somebody’s 
door! 

Come all, for it’s May time! 

A beautiful gay time! 

Come, hang loving-kindness at some¬ 
body’s door 1 

A sweet word of comfort, 

A bit of glad living, 

A smile and a handclasp, 

A tender forgiving; 

Come, hang loving-kindness at some¬ 
body’s door! 



79 





























































JUNE 


PAINT-POTS AND TIN CANS 

I T had been a lovely day, very early 
in June, when the boys and girls of 
Jefferson school went trooping out 
through the great stone doorway with 
the summer’s vacation ahead of them— 
three long months of freedom from les¬ 
sons, and of time to follow their own 
pleasant plans. 

Boys chased after one another, racing 
across streets and down alleyways in the 
wildest excitement. Girls went hippety- 
hopping along to the tune of jerky little 
songs, chattering and laughing, looking 
not unlike a flock of bright butterflies in 
their gay gingham dresses. 

8i 


WHAT TO DO 


82 

Down the street they went, helter- 
skelter, turning off at this corner and that 
corner, waving and shouting good-by to 
one another. It was not hard to see that 
all, boys and girls alike, were run¬ 
ning over with joy at the thought of be¬ 
ing set free. 

But now school had been out for only 
a week, and already Jane was beginning 
to find that she had more time to do 
things than she had things to do. 

This morning, as she ate her breakfast, 
she was wondering what she could do to 
occupy herself when music practice was 
over. She wondered as she brushed the 
crumbs from the table for Mother; she 
wondered as she tidied up the dolls’ 
house in the library; and she was still 
wondering, and getting a little dismal 
and dumpish in the process, when the 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 83 

telephone rang. It was Jane, and her 
voice was quite excited, so much so that 
Mary had to ask her to say over again the 
long jumbled-up sentence. 

“I say,” repeated Jane, as slowly as she 
could, ‘‘Mother wants you to come and 
spend the day and bring your old 
clothes.” 

“Bring my old clothes!” exclaimed 
Mary. “What for?” and she giggled at 
the thought of it. 

“Never mind what for,” Jane told her, 
“that’s a secret. But be sure to bring an 
old dress, one your mother doesn’t let 
you wear any more, and old socks and 
old shoes. Come in about an hour.” 

Mary could hardly get the receiver on 
the hook, she was so excited. The dumps 
and dismals flew away, and the smiles 
came out and made her a very sweet lit- 


84 


WHAT TO DO 


tie girl indeed as she ran to tell Mother 
what a funny invitation she had re¬ 
ceived. 

“What do you suppose we are going 
to do?” she questioned, hopping up and 
down on one foot. But Mother had no 
idea what it could be. Big Sister couldn’t 
imagine, either, what such an invitation 
meant, but she hunted up some old 
clothes and helped Mary through with 
her music, so that, when the hour was 
up, a happy little sister kissed them 
good-by and went skipping away with 
a bundle under her arm. And, of course, 
all the way down the street arid around 
the corner she wondered. 

It had not rained, so it could not be 
wading or mud-pies. She would surely 
have been told if they were going on a 
hike or to the woods. What were they 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 85 

going to do? Jane came to meet her, but 
still she wouldn’t tell. And when they 
went out on the back porch and she saw 
a long row of tin coffee cans, the play- 
table and the two chairs in front of it, 
and a bundle of old rags—even then she 
could not guess what the fun was to be. 

“Can’t you make it out yet?’’ laughed 
Jane. “What do you smell?” 

Mary wrinkled up her nose in a long 
sniff. Finally she cried, “Why, it’s paint! 
I smell paint!” 

“Well, that’s it,” Jane admitted. “We 
are going to paint—all by ourselves. 
Mother says we may paint these coffee 
cans and make them into pretty cans for 
rice and tea and things—some for your 
mother and some for mine. Fm going to 
make a blue one for Auntie Grace to 
match her new kitchen, and maybe Fll 




86 


WHAT TO DO 


make a red one for Grandmother, and a 
green one—” But Jane had to stop for 
want of breath, and just then Mother 
came in and sent them up-stairs to 
change into their old clothes. 

What fun it was to watch her open the 
small cans of bright-colored enamel 
paint! As she stirred it slowly round and 
round with a stick, mixing it well, she 
told them that she had bought it at the 
ten-cent store, and thought that buying 
paint and brushes for little daughters 
wasn’t a bit more foolish than spending 
the same money for candy or popcorn 
or peanuts. 

With papers spread beneath the table 
to catch any drops which might fall, 
and plenty of rags to wipe hands, they 
set to work eagerly. Mary painted her 
first can orange, and set it in a corner to 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 87 

dry. Then she made the top black, and 
placed it carefully beside the can. Jane 
chose bright blue for her can, and 
orange for its top. Next, Mary made one 
all in scarlet, and Jane one in green. 

By lunch time, each had her cans 
finished and set away to dry, and then 
Mother showed them how to do their 
own cleaning up. Rags, well soaked with 
turpentine, took off all the paint, and 
soap and water finished making them as 
fresh and sweet as ever. In such funny 
places they found spots, when they 
looked at each other and in the mirror. 
Right on the tip of Jane’s nose was a 
daub of orange, and on her knees, two 
blotches of green. Mary had some in her 
hair and on her forehead, and her knees 
had to be well scrubbed, too. But that 
was a big part of the fun, and, what with 


88 


WHAT TO DO 


giggling and squealing, and running 
back and forth from mirror to basin, 
lunch was ready before they were. 

The afternoon was spent in drawing 
designs to be used next day in decorat¬ 
ing their cans. Mother had thought she 
was going to be needed in this part of 
the work, but she soon found that little 
girls who have taken an interest in their 
drawing lessons have plenty of splendid 
ideas as to what can be done with lines 
and circles and blossoms. 

With their drawings as guides, the 
next morning found them busy at work 
decorating the cans which were dry 
enough to handle. It did not take them 
long to see that most of them would look 
much better with a second coat of paint, 
and, very wisely, they decided to put it 
on, even if they did have to wait one 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 89 

more day before quite finishing them. 

“What’s the difference?” said Jane. 
“It will be just as much fun to-morrow. 
Daddy always tells me when I get in a 
hurry to finish things—‘Don’t forget 
there’s going to be another day to¬ 
morrow!’ ” 

Even Mother was surprised at the suc¬ 
cess of their efforts. As they grew more 
used to handling their brushes, they tried 
flowers—red poppies on a black can, and 
yellow daisies on a blue one, were two of 
the most successful. Jane even tried her 
hand at a red and green parrot, and it 
must have been a pretty good try, for 
when Daddy saw it, he laughed and 
said, “Oh, ho! I suppose this is the 
cracker can!” 

For easier and quicker results, one day 
they cut birds and flowers from crepe 



90 


WHAT TO DO 


paper and pasted them on the cans, and 
then gave the whole a coat of shellac, 
under Mother’s direction. 

Day after day Mary ran up the street 
to work with Jane on the cool back 
porch. And, before long, the cupboard 
shelf where Mother let them keep their 
finished pieces looked as gay and pretty 
as the bed of snapdragons outside the 
porch door. 

“My goodness!’’ exclaimed Mary as 
they put the last cans away, “Do you 
know it has been two whole weeks since 
we started to paint?” 

“Why, it seems about a minute,” was 
Jane’s reply. “I guess it is because we 
have been so busy that we haven’t 
thought to count the days.” 

“I suppose so,” agreed Mary. “I just 
love to make things, don’t you? Mother 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 91 

says people are always happier when 
they are busy.” 

And, without a doubt, these two little 
girls who were busily tidying up their 
paints and brushes were happy, for they 
sang as they worked, until even the cat¬ 
bird in the lilac bush listened with his 
head cocked inquisitively: 

“There’s not a day but holds for us 
Some good thing, if we’ll take it; 
And foul or fine, or shower or shine. 
Each day is what we make it.” 

This story originally appeared in “The Christian Science 
Monitor,” in slightly different form. 






EACH DAY 

Reba Mahan Stevens Harry Wilson 



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93 
















































































































































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JULY 

LITTLE DRESSMAKERS 

J ANE’S mother was putting the last 
stitches in her new voile dress. It 
was a blue dress, just the shade of 
delphiniums, and she had enjoyed every 
minute she had spent sewing on it. Some¬ 
how it was just a bit like working with 
the delphiniums themselves. But now it 
was done, and she gathered together the 
scraps of left-over material. Jane had 
been waiting patiently for them all the 
week, planning, and dreaming of tiny 
blue dresses for her little lady dolls who 
lived in the doll-house. 

Down on the front porch, she could 


97 


98 WHAT TO DO 

hear the chatter of little-girl voices. She 
was so glad that, when J ane had come to 
her with the question, “What shall I do 
this afternoon?,” she had thought to sug¬ 
gest a doll-dressmaking party. She was 
glad that the porch was big, and wide, 
and shady this warm summer afternoon; 
she was glad that her little daughter had 
such pleasant friends; she was glad 
about the garden beneath the window, 
and the bowl of bright zinnias from it 
that was on the porch table; she was glad 
about the pitcher of lemonade, hidden 
away in the ice-box, with the green mint 
shining through. And when she came 
down-stairs, somehow she brought her 
gladness to the group of little girls 
spread out over the porch, sewing. Such 
a confusion of colors and materials! 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 99 

Each small seamstress had a circle of 
pieces about her. 

“Why, deary me, I think this looks as 
if a gypsy pedlar had been here,” she 
laughed. “Or maybe the end of the rain¬ 
bow—or, one way I look at it, I can see 
butterflies, or paint pots spilled—any¬ 
way, it looks as if some dolls were going 
to have lovely new dresses.” 

Even Isabel, from next door, was 
there. Mother was a bit surprised when 
she saw her stitching away for dear life 
on a wee party gown. 

“Why, Isabel,” she said, “I didn’t 
know you made doll clothes any more. 
I thought you’d given up dolls.” 

“Well, I don’t make them very often,” 
admitted Isabel, “but once in a while I 
just have to get out my dolls and sew for 



lOO 


WHAT TO DO 


them. When I saw the girls over here, 
I couldn’t stand it. See what I have made 
for my little old Dottie doll!” 

All the younger girls leaned forward 
eagerly to see the small garment held up 
-for inspection. What a treasure it was! 
A wee, wee gown of dainty flowered 
georgette, a tiny tight-fitting waist, with 
bits of short puffed sleeves, and a wide 
billowing skirt finished with deep scal¬ 
lops 1 

“What beautiful work, Isabel!’’ ex¬ 
claimed Mother in delight. “Why, this 
tiny dress is a piece of really fine needle¬ 
work!’’ 

Isabel flushed with pleasure, but she 
was quick to say, generously, “Well, I 
should be able to sew; I’ve had sewing 
in school, and my mother has always 


THE JVHOLE YEAR THROUGH loi 


helped me. See what Virginia has made, 
too.” 

Virginia held up her work, timidly. 
“It doesn’t look much like Isabel’s,” she 
said. 

“But it is pretty, just the same. Per¬ 
haps if you would try something not 

quite so hard, you would have better sue- 
% 

cess. Could I help you?” 

“Would you?” And Virginia’s face 
broke into happy smiles. 

“I’d love to help any of you. Somehow 
I feel like a little girl this afternoon. I 
feel just like making doll clothes, only 
I haven’t brought my doll.” 

“Here’s mine. Mother!” and Jane 
held out her tiny doll. “I couldn’t make 
her a dress if I tried a hundred years!” 
Jane’s face was so solemn, and her voice 


102 


IP'HAT TO DO 


SO woeful that every one broke out 
laughing. 

“A hundred years!” came from Isa¬ 
bel. “Well, Jane, I’m afraid the styles 
would all be changed, if it took you that 
long!” 

Mother laughed, too, but it was a very 
tender, loving laugh, and she said gently, 
“I think the trouble is that you are try¬ 
ing to make a dress like the one Isabel 
is making. Don’t you think it would be 
better to try something more simple? 
You wouldn’t think of trying to do the 
arithmetic problems that Isabel does, 
would you?” 

“No,” answered Jane, slowly. 

“I haven’t a doubt that, when you have 
practiced a lot, you will be taking wee 
stitches exactly like Isabel’s, but not just 
yet. You and Mary do very well for such 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 103 

little girls, I think. Your work on your 
tea towels is perfect, and it seems to me 
that is really more of a test of your sew¬ 
ing than the work you do on doll 
clothes.” 

Two little faces brightened with 
smiles. 

“Would you like me to show you how 
I made dresses for my small dolls when 
I first began sewing for them?” 

They piled her lap full of scraps of 
material; they brought her scissors, and 
their dolls; but she shook her head when 
they offered a threaded needle. 

“"No,” she laughed, “it is so simple 
that we do not even have to use a needle 
and thread. Really, the only thing we 
need to know is how to cut a circle. 
See,” she went on, measuring off and 
folding a piece of goods just as they had 


104 


WHAT TO DO 


SO often done in cutting rounds of paper, 
at school, “we want our circle to be as 
long from the center to the outer edge 
as the doll is from neck to foot.” 

Snip, snip, snip, went her scissors. 

“Now in the center, we cut out the 
neck—it may be round, or square, or V- 
shaped, just as you like. On either side, 
we will cut some V-shaped openings for 
the arms. And there is the dress, except 
for the sash, which is really the most im¬ 
portant part, since it holds the dress in 
place, you see. Did you ever hear of any 
real little girl whose sash is the most 
cherished part of her dress?” 

“I did,” came quickly from Mary. 
“The Japanese girls think more of their 
sashes than of anything else they wear.” 

Mother slipped the circular dress on 
Jane’s doll, pinned it at the neck behind. 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 105 

and tied a long sash of the same material 
into a bow at the back. 

“Now, you see, we can pull the skirt 
around even, and it looks exactly like a 
full-gathered skirt. There,” holding it up 
for them to examine, “how do you like 
that?” 

Great enthusiasm greeted the result of 
Mother’s work. 

“Why, it looks like a really made 
dress,” was Jane’s way of praising it, and 
the others agreed. 

“If you like,” Mother told them, “you 
can cut an opening from neck to foot 
in the back. Then, while the sash is tied 
around the doll, you may sew it fast to 
the dress with some short, stout stitches, 
and I think you might almost call that 
a ‘really made dress,’ as Jane says.” 

Next she cut one from velvet. 


io6 WHAT TO. DO 

“Now, you see, velvet is too heavy for 
a full skirt, and so we will lay all our 
fullness into deep pleats under the arms, 
and fasten them firmly with a few 
stitches.” And when that was done, she 
went on, “A band of ribbon around her 
waist, this tiny flower for an ornament! 
How does that suit?” 

“Fine! Fine!” came the chorus. 

Jane and Mary were jubilant. Such 
scrambling among their pieces to find 
the very prettiest, and such plans for 
whole boxes of dresses! Mother turned to 
see how Virginia was getting on. 

“Fve been trying to fix one out of this 
pink satin, but I can’t. Fm afraid there 
isn’t enough left now for anything,” Vir¬ 
ginia told her, dejectedly. 

“Let me help you,” and Mother 
smoothed out the piece of rosebud pink. 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 107 


“We will make a simple little dress, but 
one that will be very pretty.” 

And, as she worked, she went on talk¬ 
ing slowly. “One long, narrow piece for 
the waist, to come just below the arms. 
Then another straight piece, somewhat 
wider, for the skirt, gathered on to the 
waist, very full. Now, two straps for the 
shoulders. There—isn’t that a dainty eve¬ 
ning gown? If it is to be a day-time 
frock, all you need to do is to add a ruffle 
around the neck, or any sort of wide col¬ 
lar you like.” 

“It looks easy!” said Virginia, turn¬ 
ing it round and round with admiration. 

“And it is easy,” Mother assured her. 
“You will have a pleasant time working 
out gowns like that.” 

“I was getting almost discouraged, a 
while ago,” admitted Virginia, but she 



io8 JVHAT TO DO 

looked far from being discouraged now, 
as she turned her work-bag upside down 
and emptied out bundle after bundle of 
gay scraps. 

“Yes, because you were trying some¬ 
thing too hard. Of course, we know per¬ 
fectly well that each of us can learn all 
the hard things we need to know, but it 
is easier to learn them a little at a time. 
Don’t you think so?” 

“ ‘Every little bit, added to what you 
have, makes just a little bit more,’ ” sang 
Isabel, and Mother nodded her happy 
approval as she left them stitching away 
contentedly, and went to find the lemon¬ 
ade, hidden away in the ice-box, with the 
green mint shining through. 


This story originally appeared in “The Christian Science 
Monitor.” 





August 

Pots of pacirvt 
aT\d pieces 
of oilclotK 



109 

































AUGUST 


POTS OF PAINT AND PIECES OF OILCLOTH 



ARY and Jane were swing¬ 
ing out under the cherry- 
tree. They had started their 
morning’s play in the sand pile, but, for 
some reason, that did not seem to be just 
what they wanted to do. Soon they left 
it and tried the bicycle but, after a few 
times around the block, that, too, was 
given up. 

As she went about her work, in the 
kitchen. Mother could hear them talk¬ 
ing out in the swing and, as the conver¬ 
sation seemed to lag more and more, she 
was not surprised to see them coming in 





I 12 


WHAT TO DO 


through the back door in a short while. 
Vacation days were beginning to drag a 
bit, and the question, “What shall we do 
now?” was apt to bob up at any hour of 
the day. 

To meet this perplexing query. 
Mother kept her mind busy turning over 
fresh plans and suggestions, and that 
was the reason these two little playmates 
saw a row of familiar-looking paint cans 
on the porch table as they came through. 
When these caught their eyes, both 
stopped instantly. 

“Why,” said Mary, “there are our 
cans of paint!” And her face broke into 
welcoming smiles. 

“That’s just what they are!” agreed 
Jane. “Our very same little cans of paint 
that we used when we colored the tin 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 113 

cans. Don’t you remember what fun we 
had?” 

Mary remembered quite well, it 
seemed; and Mother, inside the kitchen 
door, was glad to listen to their enthusi¬ 
asm and to hear each in turn declare, “I 
just love to paint!” 

“Come in and see what I am doing!” 
she called. And, though it was only a 
common sort of task, it proved very in¬ 
teresting to the two little girls. The 
kitchen table was getting a new dress of 
white oilcloth, and Mother was trim¬ 
ming a long strip from the side. 

“It looks like the cream candy we get 
at the Fair,” was Jane’s comment. 

They felt its shiny surface and enjoyed 
the fresh painty smell of it, deciding that 
it must be a very pleasant bit of work to 


114 WHAT TO DO 

cover kitchen tables with new oilcloth. 

“What are you going to do with the 
scraps?” questioned Jane. “Couldn’t we 
make something out of them, maybe?” 

“Yes,” was the answer, “you may have 
every scrap—and I know something you 
will like to do with them, too.” 

“Oh, Mother, what is it? May we do 
it now?” was the next question. 

“Yes, you may do it now—right this 
minute. Only, first, you must skip up¬ 
stairs and find two old dresses to put on. 
You are going to paint.” 

There was a good deal of racing about 
up-stairs, and a good bit of talking and 
giggling, but presently down they came, 
ready for work, laughing over their 
funny appearance in the tight, faded 
dresses, which no amount of paint could 
hurt. 




THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 115 

“I think we shall start on something 
easy, at first,” Mother advised them, 
“and that will be doilies.” 

“Doilies!” came in one voice of dis¬ 
appointment. 

“But Mother, are we going to sew?” 
protested Jane as the enthusiasm faded 
from her face. “I thought we were going 
to paint!” 

“So you are, my dear. You are going 
to paint doilies.” That brought the smiles 
back quickly. “And the first thing you 
will have to do is to cut them out. Get a 
cup from the china closet. That will be 
your pattern for circles.” 

Soon everything needed for the work 
had been gathered together, and two 
smiling faces bent over the porch table, 
while two pair of hands went in and out 
among the materials as busy as bees. 


ii6 WHAT TO DO 

Mother showed them how to mark the 
circles, tracing them always on the 
wrong side of the oilcloth and then cut¬ 
ting them out with nice even strokes of 
the scissors. She suggested six for each 
one, so that they might make a set to be 
used as tumbler doilies. The cutting was 
soon done, and the two workers were 
eager to begin painting. First, they must 
choose their decorations, and Mother 
laughed a little when she suggested 
daisies for a beginning. 

“They are simple little flowers, I 
know, but so pretty, too. Don’t you think 
it is a good plan to start with simple, 
easy things when you are trying out 
something new? You see, when you suc¬ 
ceed with the easy ones, it gives you 
more courage for something harder.” 

So daisies were quickly chosen, and 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 117 

after a few stray ones had been drawn 
on paper for practice, the painting was 
started. 

“I’ll tell you what I think is one of the 
very nicest things about daisies,” re¬ 
marked Jane, as she stirred the yellow 
paint round and round, “it doesn’t make 
any difference how many petals you put 
on them, they are all right!” 

“Yes, that’s true,” agreed Mother, 
laughing with them, “but I believe you 
will make more of a success if you draw 
a faint outline before you start painting. 
Then you will not be so apt to have only 
a tiny space left for the last petal, and 
have to squeeze in a half-grown one.” 

Jane made a group of three small 
daisies in the center of her circles, while 
Mary chose to use one large one. Bright 
yellow they were, with black centers. 


ii8 


WHAT TO DO 


“Oh, I like this!” was Mary’s em¬ 
phatic decision, as she bent above her 
work. “I like the way the paint spreads 
over the smooth oilcloth, don’t you?” 

“I should say I do!” was the quick re¬ 
sponse. “It’s better even than painting 
cans. Mother, shall we have to wait un¬ 
til to-morrow for this to dry before we 
can finish them, as we did with the cans?” 

“Not if you are careful little paint¬ 
ers,” Mother assured them. “You can 
easily finish every bit of them right away. 
Then, by evening, or to-morrow at the 
latest, they will be dry and ready to use.” 

After the flowers were done, tiny 
sprays of green leaves were added, and 
around the edge was painted a border of 
black about a fourth of an inch wide. 
Sometimes there were blotches and 
daubs, but these were easily wiped off 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 119 

the smooth surface so that no one was in 
the least disturbed by them. 

Twelve little painted doilies, spread 
out over the table, made a very attractive 
showing, and two little girls were as 
happy as could be over the results of 
their work. 

Although she tried hard not to listen 
to their whispered conversation. Mother 
overheard enough to make her feel sure 
that the first thought of these loving little 
girls was for their mothers, and for her 
part she felt sure that she was really 
going to be proud to make use of these 
gay table pieces. 

No use to put the paint away, for plans 
were quickly made for another day’s 
work! And when that was done, another, 
and another followed, until the scraps of 
oilcloth were all used up and the paint 


120 


fVHJT TO DO 


very low in the cans. And such an array 
of pretty things! 

With the small pieces for encourage¬ 
ment, they had, day by day, attempted 
larger and more difficult ones. Doilies 
were made, large enough to be used be¬ 
neath vases and the water pitcher, deco¬ 
rated, some with scarlet poppies, some 
with cornflowers, some with tiny forget- 
me-nots, outlined with a tracing of gilt 
paint and having a border of harmoniz¬ 
ing color with an added line of gold. 

Best of all was the gift each one had 
made for a baby friend—a bib and tray- 
cloth to match. Mother had drawn the 
outline of a little chicken, about two 
inches in length, and from this had cut 
them a cardboard pattern. It was easy, 
they found, to run their pencils around 
this stiff picture. Each chicken was 



THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 121 

painted yellow, and when he was quite 
dry, was outlined with a tiny line of 
black at the very edge, and given a neat 
little black eye. A chicken in each cor¬ 
ner of the bib and the same on the tray- 
cloth did not take very long, and proved 
to be great fun. 

Mother had cut the bibs for them, and 
she was very glad to bind the necks with 
tape. How pretty they were! Jane and 
Mary could scarcely wait to carry them 
to the baby friends who were to use them. 

“Why, it looks like a Gift Shop!” de¬ 
clared Jane when they finally sorted out 
all the things they had made. And it did 
indeed! 

Mary selected from her share one of 
the larger doilies, decorated with scarlet 
poppies and black bands. “I’m going to 
keep this one for our teacher,” she said. 


122 


WHAT TO DO 


“and take it to her when school begins. 
It will be just the thing for her to use 
on her desk!” 

Jane looked a bit taken aback for a 
moment and then she said happily, “Oh, 
then I know what I will do! I was think¬ 
ing I would take my yellow daisy one to 
her, but I’ll give it to Miss Norton, the 
Principal, instead, and then they will 
both have one. Isn’t it funny—I was so 
glad when school closed last spring, and 
do you know I believe I’ll be just as glad 
when it begins again!” 

“So shall I,” agreed Mary. 

This story originally appeared in “The Christian Science 
Monitor.” 






^September 

^,Teec-pot std.T\ds tKdit 
ca.n\e o\it of tKe ' 
flower gD^rdeiv 




j O* c 


^ 0 ^ 


'r ' 
0 -“ 



{z<* 





123 
























































SEPTEMBER 


TEAPOT STANDS THAT CAME OUT OF THE 

FLOWER GARDEN 


W ARM and rosy with the heat 

of a golden' September af¬ 
ternoon, three little girls 
lounged about under the shade of Jane’s 
cherry-tree. They were almost as quiet 
as the soft yellow butterflies which went 
fluttering about, up and down and out 
and in, now here and now there, through 
the sunshine. Jane lay watching a bee, 
busy at his work of gathering honey 
from a stray clump of white clover. How 
funny he was, she thought lazily, and 

yet how he seemed to know just what he 

125 


126 


TV HAT TO DO 


was about. Mary, flat on her back, was 
looking straight up into the cloudless 
sky, and Virginia swung dreamily back 
and forth, back and forth in the swing, 
with half an eye on Mother who was in 
the flower garden at the end of the yard. 
Snip, snip, her scissors were going, and, 
one by one, great brilliant zinnias were 
being added to those which already over¬ 
flowed her basket. 

“Did you ever see anything so blue as 
the sky?” spoke Mary, slowly, after a 
long silence. “I guess it’s the bluest thing 
in all the world.” 

“No, it isn’t,” came back quickly from 
Virginia. “I’m looking at something 
bluer, right now.” 

“What is it, I’d like to know!” and 
Mary sat upright, ready for an argu¬ 
ment. 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 127 

“It’s those cornflowers down there,” 
and Virginia nodded in the direction of 
the garden. 

Blue they were, those cornflowers— 
even Mary had to admit that—blue, and 
dainty as fairies, set thickly in their mass 
of delicate green foliage. Then the blue 
of a few late delphiniums attracted them, 
and before many minutes they were in 
the middle of a discussion of the differ¬ 
ent flowers: which was prettiest; which 
had the sweetest fragrance; which made 
the loveliest bouquets; and a dozen 
other questions that no one but dear 
little girls would think of. 

“I tell you what—I wish we could 
keep the gardens growing all year!” de¬ 
clared Jane, at last. 

“So do 1.1 think it’s a shame all those 
pretty flowers have to get chased out by 



128 


WHAT TO DO 


Jack Frost, mean old fellow!” and Vir¬ 
ginia’s eyes snapped. “Look at your 
mother, now, with that big basket of 
zinnias! Wouldn’t it be nice if she could 
pick one like that every day all year?” 

Mother came within hearing in time 
for the last remark, and she laughed as 
she took off her garden hat and turned it 
into a fan. 

“But perhaps I shouldn’t want to 
gather zinnias every day in the year,” 
she answered Virginia. “Summer is my 
playtime, and nothing in all the world 
is quite so beautiful and so much fun as 
a garden. But, deary me, I shouldn’t like 
to miss the snow-storms, and the skat- 
ing, and the icicles, and the snowmen! 
Would you, now, really?” 

“Well, no,” on second thought Vir¬ 
ginia had to admit that she would not 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 129 

want to do without a single one of those 
things. “But Fd like to keep the garden 
and flowers, too,” she still insisted. 

“Well, we can keep the flowers in a 
way, you know,” and, with that three 
faces were turned quickly and inquisi¬ 
tively toward Mother. “Not just as they 
are, of course, but in a way to make us 
remember very well the summer and 
carry its prettiness into the winter days.” 

She paused with a teasing smile, but 
had not long to wait for the question she 
knew would come, “How? What do you 
mean?” 

“It’s something I have overlooked in 
the summer’s good times, entirely for¬ 
gotten until this minute. Virginia’s re¬ 
mark brought it to my mind, and it isn’t 
too late to do it yet. Perhaps we shall en¬ 
joy it more, now that we have to hunt a 


WHAT TO DO 


130 

little harder for our colors than we 
would have done in midsummer when 
the garden was running over with all 
kinds of bloom.” 

No dreamy lounging now! Every one 
was up and at attention to find out what 
Mother had in her mind. 

Not a very difficult piece of work, she 
told them—just the making of little tea¬ 
pot stands, or glass mats, or whatever 
they wished to call them, out of pressed 
flower petals arranged on a stiff back¬ 
ground under a small square of glass. It 
sounded interesting, and as though 
something pretty might come of it. 

“But you can never believe just how 
pretty they are until you make one,” 
Mother assured them. “In the first place, 
no two of them are ever exactly alike, 
because different shapes and colors of 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 131 

petals are used. You’ll just have to see 
them to understand.” 

“Well, how do we begin?” asked Jane, 
spreading out her hands in a funny little 
gesture which plainly meant that, so far 
as she was concerned, she was ready to 
begin that minute, and spoke for the rest. 
Mother was thoughtful for a moment 
and then she said, “I think you will have 
to begin by doing one small errand. 
While I get ready to help you, run down 
to Mr. Anderson’s Picture Shop and ask 
him to cut you each a piece of glass five 
inches square. If we decide to make 
many. I’m sure we can find some odd 
pieces in the attic and have them cut, so 
they will cost nothing, but just now we 
will buy what we need to start our work.” 

When there are plans afoot, there is 
no loitering, and Mother was scarcely 


132 


WHAT TO DO 


ready for them when they were back. 

The big kitchen table was taken over 
as a work-bench. From her writing desk, 
Mother brought some heavy cardboard 
which had come off the backs of tablets. 
These were cut to fit the glass squares, 
and next covered with wall-paper of a 
soft shade of tan, without flower or fig¬ 
ure, which Mother called oatmeal 
paper. This done, they were sent into the 
garden to bring a handful of all the dif¬ 
ferent sorts of bright flowers they could 
find. With these before them, the real 
work, and the pleasantest part of it all, 
started in earnest. Flowers were torn 
apart, and petals of the same color 
heaped together. On each cardboard 
square a pencilled dot was made to mark 
the exact center, and from that point the 
design started. 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 133 

\ 

“Now you must use your own prefer¬ 
ence in working out your pattern,” 
Mother told them, as she showed them 
how to put a tiny bit of paste on the back¬ 
ground and press the petal smoothly 
over it. 

“Get us some toothpicks, Jane dear, to 
spread our paste. These brushes are 
much too stiff and heavy for such dainty 
work,” she said. 

Dainty work it was indeed, and 
though, for a few brief moments, small 
fingers felt clumsy in handling fragile 
petals, it took none of them long to be¬ 
come quite nimble at it. 

Starting at the very center, Mary put 
a tiny speck of orange marigold; from 
that she pointed outward four petals 
from a red zinnia. In between each of 
these she placed scraps of green parsley 


134 


WHAT TO DO 


leaves, and then all around this small 
design she ran a sort of border of yellow 
petals. It began to look quite like a 
colored drawing and, by this time, she 
was beginning to feel so at home with 
the work that she had no trouble in 
finishing it out to the edge. As Mother 
had said, each one looked entirely dif¬ 
ferent, because each worker chose petals 
of varied shapes and colors, and ar¬ 
ranged them according to her own plan. 

Virginia made quite a heavy design 
which covered her background well all 
over; Jane’s pattern was more open; 
while Mary’s had a compact center, an 
open space, and then a border at the very 
edge. When the designs were in place, 
the clean glass was placed over them, 
and Mother brought out a roll of 
gummed gilt-paper binding which they 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 135 

were to use to finish the edge and hold 
glass and cardboard together. Four 
strips were cut for each worker, one for 
each side of her square. If Mother had 
imagined this was going to be a difficult 
part of the work for them, she must have 
been greatly surprised, for after she had 
showed them exactly how to do it, they 
went at it as though they had been doing 
nothing else all their lives but pasting 
gummed binding on glass. 

Before they were ready to have it so, 
the work was done, and a hubbub of en¬ 
thusiasm and delight filled the kitchen. 

“You said we wouldn’t know how 
pretty they were until we made one. You 
were right. Mother!” and Jane gave her 
a quick squeeze of happiness and love. 
Then, “But what are these for? What 
shall we do with them?” 


136 


WHAT TO DO 


“I know what I’m going to do with 
mine,” broke in Virginia. “This very 
morning my mother wanted something 
to set a jar of flowers on, to keep the 
dampness off the table. This is the very 
thing, isn’t it?” and she turned a ques¬ 
tioning look to Mother. 

“It is indeed. I think, too, they might 
be used for hot dishes if you were care¬ 
ful, and for teapot stands, as I said at 
first. I know another thing—they make 
dear little plaques to hang on the wall. 
It seems to me you might like to make a 
number of them while the garden is with 


So that is how it came about that, on 
more than one afternoon while the Sep¬ 
tember sky kept its blue and the garden 
bloomed bravely, some happy little girls 



THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 137 

hovered about, busy as bees, gathering 
bright petals and working them into fas¬ 
cinating patterns, weaving into them 
loving thoughts of the mothers, and 
grandmothers, and aunties, and friends 
who were to find them, some gift morn¬ 
ing, wrapped in little secret bundles and 
tied about with gay ribbons. 



139 













































OCTOBER 


A SCRAP-BOOK HOUSE 

W HEN a little girl has been 

looking forward all the week 
to Saturday as a day when she 
is to have one long, glorious play in the 
fallen leaves, and then wakes on Satur¬ 
day morning to find the rain coming 
down steadily from a heavy, gray sky, it 
is not to be wondered at if she finds it a 
bit of a task to keep sweet and good- 
tempered. 

Mary was doing her best, but like 
many another girl (both little and big) 
she was having rather a hard time giv¬ 
ing up the thing which she had planned. 


142 


WHAT TO DO 


October had colored the leaves so beau¬ 
tifully and shaken them down from the 
trees—certainly it seemed there could 
not have been a pleasanter thing than she 
and Jane had thought of doing. The 
whole week through they had talked of 
the lunch they would take to the park in 
the next block, and of the houses they 
would build from the great heaps of 
leaves there. But now, here was the rain 
—not just a shower, but a steady down¬ 
pour from a sky that looked as though 
it had enough rain in it to last for days 
and weeks. 

Of course, after all, it was rather in¬ 
teresting to watch Mother stirring up 
the bowl of yellow pumpkin custard for 
the pies, and she was on the point of ask¬ 
ing if she might bake one in her own 
small pie-tin, when the telephone rang. 



THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 143 

She came back from answering it with 
a smiling face and shining eyes. 

“It’s Jane, Mother,” she announced, 
happily. “She wants me to come and stay 
for lunch—and she told me to bring a 
pair of scissors! What for, do you sup¬ 
pose? May I go?” 

“Of course you may go. And as for 
the scissors, I have no idea what they 
are for, only I feel sure there is some¬ 
thing nice in store for you,” was 
Mother’s reply, as she slid a spicy, yel¬ 
low pie into the oven. 

Before many minutes, Mary was on 
her way to her little friend’s home. 
Down the street she went, snugly tucked 
in her green slicker. The raindrops made 
funny little thudding sounds as they 
came down on her umbrella, and, as she 
scuffed her way through the drifted 



144 


WHAT TO DO 


leaves, she found that she was altogether 
enjoying this walk through the rain. 

Jane was watching from the window 
for her, and she was scarcely inside the 
door before she was shown what was 
waiting for her. 

“Mother has been cleaning house this 
week, and just look!” exclaimed the 
small hostess. “Just see all the old maga¬ 
zines she has given us! And see these big 
books with whole pages that have never 
been used. Father had them once in his 
office. And look at these books of wall¬ 
paper samples—the paperhanger gave 
them to Mother one day. She says we 
may have them all. And she has the best 
scheme. Guess what!” 

But when Mary couldn’t guess, Jane 
had to tell her. 

“Well, first we will go through the 



THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH ,145 

magazines, and cut out furniture and 
all the things that go into a house—bath¬ 
room things, and rugs, and lamps, and 
everything. Then we will take one page 
of the book for a living-room, and paste 
it full of the furniture that goes in a 
living-room; and one page for a kitchen, 
and paste it full of things that belong 
there; and put the beds and dressers on 
the bedroom page. See?” 

Mary saw instantly. 

“Oh, that’s going to be ever so much 
fun. Why, we can have as many rooms 
as queens have in their palaces, if we fill 
all the leaves in these books! Which 
books are we going to use?” 

“Either kind. You choose first,” came 
the generous response. 

So Mary chose a book of wall-paper 
samples, because she decided she could 


146 WHAT TO DO 

think of the flowered background as 
being the walls of her rooms. 

Then the work began. Snip, snip, 
went the scissors. Rustle, rustle, went the 
paper pages as they were torn from the 
magazines. Before long the waste basket 
was filled to the top with clippings, and 
each worker had a pile of paper house 
furnishings beside her on the floor. Such 
fun as they had selecting the couches 
they liked best, the beds which seemed to 
them the very prettiest, the rugs which 
suited their different tastes, and the 
lamps, the mirrors, and the pictures for 
the walls! 

But if the selecting and cutting had 
been fun, it was even more of a delight 
to arrange the articles on the pages and 
paste them neatly in place. Mother saw 
to it that the big library table was 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 147 

cleared, so that there was plenty of elbow 
room and no getting in the way of each 
other. There was paste, there were cloths 
to smooth the pasted pictures in place, 
and there was a damp cloth for cleaning 
hands when they became so sticky that 
they interfered with good work. 

With only a stop for lunch, these two 
little home-builders worked until late af¬ 
ternoon, wholly in love with this new 
idea, while the rain-drops pattered down 
on the brown leaves outside. 

“You are to take yours home, you 
know,” said Jane, when they were finish¬ 
ing their work. “It is yours. Mother said 
it was to be. And, sometime, you can 
add more rooms to it.” And as Mary 
flashed at her a happy, grateful smile, 
she went on, “I think this is so much fun, 
don’t you?” 


148 


WHAT TO DO 


“I should think I do!” was the quick 
reply. “It’s the most fun we’ve had for 
a long time—except playing in the 
leaves, and we can do that next week I 
think, don’t you? It can’t rain for always, 
can it?” 

A happy, contented Mary went home 
through the rain with her precious book 
tucked beneath her slicker. 

When Mother had finished looking 
through its pages, there was a twinkle in 
her eyes as she said, “Well, dear, it seems 
to me that you really made a house in 
the leaves, after all.” 

For a moment Mary did not see the 
joke but, when she did, she had a good 
laugh. 

“I did, didn’t I? I’ll tell Jane that.” 
And then, snuggled in Mother’s lap, she 
confided, “Mother, we did have the best 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 149 


time. I wish every little girl knew about 
our game. It is so much more fun than 
just cutting and pasting without making 
something special out of the pictures.” 


This story originally appeared in “The Christian Science 
Monitor.” 


































































































NOVEMBER 


THE “rainy day GROCERY” 

S plash, splash, came the rain¬ 
drops against the window, tap¬ 
ping it sharply, then trickling 
down the shining pane in numberless 
little rivulets. The chrysanthemum 
bushes in the garden were beaten over 
before the steady November downpour; 
the leafless branches of the trees bent 
lower with the weight of it; and in the 
middle of the yard was a miniature lake 
where the water had gathered too fast 
for the ground to soak it up. 

But, inside, all was warm and cozy. 


1 S 3 


154 


WHAT TO DO 


/ 


Jane sat at the kitchen table eating a be¬ 
lated breakfast, as little sleepyheads so 
often do on rainy Saturday mornings. 
Close beside her, in her low rocker, was 
Mother, peeling the roundest and red¬ 
dest of apples. On the stove, something 
very sweet-smelling and spicy was bud- 
bling in a kettle. The apples with their 
shiny faces turned up from the basket 
looked so jolly. Mother seemed so con¬ 
tented and comfortable, and the kitchen 
was so snug and pretty, that it seemed 
strange that the only gloomy thing in 
the room should be Jane’s face. But so 
it was. Not a smile—not ever so small a 
smile, could be seen there as she bent 
above her bowl of cereal. 

“I don’t see why it had to rain and 
spoil everything,” she presently said, and 
her voice sounded like the croaking of a 



THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 155 

cross little frog. “Nobody wanted it to 
rain!” 

“Oh, but it hasn’t spoiled everything 
—not a bit of it,’’ was Mother’s quick 
answer. “And somebody did want it to 
rain, too. Look at the birds darting out 
from the vines over and over again. They 
can scarcely wait for the nice baths they 
are going to have in the eaves when the 
downpour stops. They really wanted it 
to rain.’’ 

“Well, anyway, I didn’t. Neither did 
the other girls. We have been planning 
all week to skate up in the Park to-day,’’ 
and Jane ate her crispy toast without the 
smallest sign of enjoyment. 

“But surely there is something else 
you can do,’’ was Mother’s cheerful 
suggestion. 

“No, there isn’t. There isn’t one single 


WHAT TO DO 


156 

thing we can do. We have done every¬ 
thing any one could ever think of 
doing!” and the voice sounded just as 
hopeless as the words. 

Mother peeled an apple round and 
round slowly, and dropped it into the 
pan at her side before she spoke. 

“Yes, you have done a good many 
pleasant things this summer. But there 
must be something left. Good times are 
always just around the corner, if we will 
look for them. Let’s try! You and I are 
going to have the house to ourselves to¬ 
day. Let’s invite all the girls who were 
going to skate to come and spend the 
whole day with us.” 

Jane’s face brightened, as one by one 
she called her little friends over the tele¬ 
phone, and one by one came back the 
replies: “Mother says I may come!” 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 157 

When she skipped out to report to 
Mother, the grocer’s boy was bumping 
in at the kitchen door with his usual 
basket, and, on top of it, a big brown 
box. 

“Looks like rain!” was his greeting, 
and a broad grin went with it. “That box 
looks like a box of fruit jars, too—but it 
isn’t! No sir! Not a fruit jar in the lot. 
It is something ‘the boss’ sent to the 
young lady here.” 

“To me? What can it be?” The grum¬ 
ble was gone out of her voice, and the 
dismal dumps faded away as Jane started 
exploring the contents of the box. 

“You’ll like it, or I miss my guess— 
almost any girl would,” and the grocer’s 
boy went whistling out into the splash¬ 
ing rain. 

“Look, Mother, look! A tiny sack of 



WHAT TO DO 


158 

flour—isn’t it cunning? And here’s a 
little can of baking powder! And a pack¬ 
age of crackers! And salad dressing— 
oh, what a cunning thing! And little 
baby cakes of soap—one, two—oh, a lot 
of them!” 

“Samples,” Mother told her, “that 
Mr. Charles has been kind enough to 
save for you. I imagine he thought you 
might like to play store some day—some 
day when it rained and nobody wanted it 
to rain, and there wasn’t a single thing 
to do because everything pleasant had 
already been done a hundred times.” 

It was a joke not hard to see, and Jane 
broke into a hearty laugh. 

“There’s some one now!” Jane scram¬ 
bled to her feet in answer to the doorbell 
which was jingling and jangling in the 
most sociable way. 




THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 159 

It was Mary. And before her wet rain¬ 
coat was spread to dry, Elsa and Nancy 
arrived; then Frances hopped off the bus 
at the corner; and, in no time at all, Faye 
and June came in sight, both tucked un¬ 
der one umbrella. 

Such a babel of talking, such a con¬ 
fusion of greetings! But above it all, 
over and over, sounded Jane’s piping 
voice telling them, “We are going to 
play store! Mr. Charles sent the cutest 
samples—little cakes of soap—little 
packages—” 

Into the sweet-smelling kitchen they 
went pell-mell, and flopped down on the 
floor about the box. Such a clamor of 
“ohs” and “ahs,” while in and out be¬ 
tween all these exclamations ran the 
making of plans. 

“I’m going to rent you my sewing- 


i6o 


WHAT TO DO 


room for the day,” Mother informed 
them. “And I’ll supply you with all the 
other things you need, if you will agree 
to keep shop in a businesslike way. I 
want you to sell each sample for the 
price I should have to pay for a large 
package of the same thing; write your 
bills accurately; and add them up cor¬ 
rectly.” 

“Of course we will!” Nancy, as the 
oldest girl, spoke for them all. “I wish 
we had some money, too!” 

Jane made a rush for the library, and 
brought back a box. 

“Look at that!” she cried, excitedly, 
as she held it up before Nancy. 

Cardboard money it was, a whole box 
of it, with dollars, half-dollars, and all 
the other pieces looking quite like real 


coins. 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH i6i 

Soon, from the room above, came the 
clatter of feet and the scraping sound of 
tables being moved about. Then a dash 
down the back stairs for the promised 
supplies—sugar in a jar, rice and beans 
in cans, a dozen eggs in a small basket, 
potatoes, turnips, and apples in a larger 
one, while from the cupboard shelves 
they were allowed to make a selection of 
canned goods. No one had much idea 
what price to put on the different articles 
until Mother told them. 

“I like this way,” said Nancy, emphat¬ 
ically. “It’s silly to sell everything for 
five cents and ten cents, when we can 
just as well use the real price. We aren’t 
babies!” 

Up they went, arms full, and down 
again for another load. Scales, paper 
sacks, a ball of twine, wrapping paper. 


i 62 


WHAT TO DO 


a toy telephone, and, best of all, a very 
small cash register which really worked 
and made change for more than twenty 
dollars. 

Nancy was chosen as manager for 
the day, while the others agreed to take 
turns being clerks and customers. So the 
store opened. 

“Please help me, Mrs. Smith,” said 
Frances to one of her early visitors. 
“Wouldn’t you just as soon have half- 
pound of rice as three-quarters? It’s so 
much easier to figure!” 

But the manager spoke up sternly, 
“Give the lady what she asks for. We 
strive to please.” 

Both the clerk and the customer gave 
a rather undignified giggle, and though 
the clerk was a trifle slow, in the end 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 163 

Mrs. Smith went away entirely satisfied. 

Business was in full swing and it was 
nearing the noon hour when Mother 
climbed the back stairs to The Rainy 
Day Grocery. 

“I have been anxious to see your new 
store,” she told the manager, “and I 
wanted to tell you that I run a Waffle 
Shop on the floor below. Perhaps your 
clerks would like to stop in for lunch 
this rainy day.” 

Every one was enthusiastic over the 
prospect of a visit to the Waffle Shop, 
and more than one trip was made to 
lean over the stair railing and sniff for 
odors from the lower floor. 

So the store was soon set in order, and 
hungry and happy, they raced down¬ 
stairs. Such fun! Such laughing! Such 


164 


WHAT TO DO 


appetites! But the last waffle eaten, and 
the last dish put away, no time was lost 
in getting back to business. 

Nancy proved herself a wise manager, 
and soon there was a great race going 
on to see which set of clerks could turn 
over to her the most perfect set of sales 
slips. Halves and quarters and eighths, 
which had seemed so bothersome in the 
forenoon, began to cause less trouble; 
and excited clerks added up their bills 
exultantly. 

Mother, below stairs, was quite for¬ 
gotten until late afternoon when she 
made her appearance carrying a covered 
basket. 

“Mr. Manager,” she said, “I am call¬ 
ing at the various stores with my home¬ 
made conserves, and I should like to 
show them to your patrons.” 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 165 

Customers were not long in arriving, 
and crispy crackers spread with fresh 
apple conserve proved so popular that 
each one wanted to buy a glass from her 
basket. 

“These are samples,” they were told, 
“that I am giving out to-day, with the 
good wishes of the maker.” 

Long before any one was ready for it, 
the clock struck five. 

“Why, it’s raining!” exclaimed Jane, 
as she stepped out onto the porch to see 
her friends off. 

“Raining? Of course it’s raining, you 
goose!” laughed Nancy. “It’s been rain¬ 
ing all day.” 

“My goodness, that’s so—but I forgot 
all about it.” 

“So did I” and “So did I” and “So did 


i66 


WHAT TO DO 


I” came from the others in a happy 
chorus. 

So Faye and June went round the 
corner, both tucked under the same um¬ 
brella; while Frances hopped on the big 
bus; Mary went skipping down the 
street; and Nancy and Elsa ran away in 
the opposite direction, each holding 
tight to a wee glass of Mother’s golden 
conserve. 

And over and over, as she stood in the 
doorway watching them disappear, Jane 
found herself singing to the splashing 
rain the same song that she and Mary 
had sung in June: 

“There’s not a day but holds for us 
Some good thing, if we’ll take it; 
And foul or fine, or shower or shine. 
Each day is what we make it.” 

This story originally appeared in “The Christian Science 
Monitor.” 






























DECEMBER 


CHRISTMAS GIFTS 

May happy stars shine sweetly down 
Upon your home this Christmastide; 
And deep within each heart therein 
May love, and joy, and peace abide! 


1 


IPPETY - hippety - hippety- 
hop; hippety-hippety-hop; a 
little girl with a red tam (that 


was Jane) and a little girl with a blue 
tam (that was Mary) went bouncing 
from one end of the block to the very 
last house at the other end, carrying a 
pattern which Mother was sending to 
Mrs. Shepherd. They waved to Auntie 
Krum, sitting snugly in her window; 
they threw kisses to little Alice Ann, next 






170 


WHAT TO DO 


door, who stood looking out with round 
eyes of wonder on all that passed by; 
they gave a bright Good-morning to Mr. 
Godfrey who tapped along briskly with 
his shiny cane; they called a Merry 
Christmas to old Sandy who came sol¬ 
emnly down the street with his market¬ 
ing basket on his arm; and then they dis¬ 
appeared into Mrs. Shepherd’s doorway. 

The street was a far different looking 
affair without these two gay little tarns 
and the two gay little girls beneath them. 
But one had scarcely time to miss them 
when there they were again—Hippety- 
hippety-hippety-hop; hippety-hippety- 
hop; and in between hops trying to take 
the smallest possible bites out of the big 
sugar cookies that came with them out 
from Mrs. Shepherd’s door. 

“What is the Baby Fold, anyway?’’ 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 171 

came from Jane, between hops and bites. 

“Well,” and Mary’s reply was slow 
because of the cookie and hopping, but 
more because she was puzzling this 
question about in her own thought, “I 
don’t exactly know—I just sort of know. 
It’s a place where there are a great many 
babies.” 

“We’ll ask Mother!” confidently sug¬ 
gested Jane. And that is just what they 
did. 

“The Baby Fold?” echoed Mother, 
in surprise. “Well, I don’t know just 
why, but I supposed of course you knew 
all about it. You’ve seen it often, I think, 
in our drives—a lovely old home out at 
the edge of town.” 

They listened with deepest interest 
while she told them about the place— 
that it was a home where darling babies. 




WHAT TO DO 


172 

who for one reason or another had no 
one to care for them, could be kept until 
a happy home was found. 

“But Mrs. Shepherd is making 
cookies for them, Mother. Why is she 
doing that?” 

Then followed further explanations 
that there was not always enough money 
at the home to keep things running 
easily, and that many people sent cookies 
and apples and necessary things to help 
along. 

“And,” said Mother, “I can’t tell you 
how long I’ve been thinking of baking 
cookies for those blessed babies, and I 
haven’t done it yet.” She gave an inquir¬ 
ing glance at the clock, then clapped her 
hands together in a way that brought a 
thrill of excitement to Jane and Mary. 

“Isn’t it splendid? I can just spare the 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 173 

( . 

time this morning. I’m so glad you made 
me think of it. And they will go out for 
a Christmas greeting!” 

“Oh, Mother, may we help?” was 
Jane’s question, and “Oh, please, may 
we?” begged Mary, eager to have a part 
in this loving work. 

In no time at all the sweet fragrance 
of freshly baked cookies filled the 
kitchen, and on the wide table were be¬ 
ing spread out the roundest and most 
toothsome sugar cookies. Half-way 
through the task, Jane suggested, 
“Wouldn’t it have been nice to have 
made gingerbread men for them? Why 
didn’t we think of that?” 

“But they use only plain cookies, for 
many of them are just the very tiniest 
tots, you know. Still, why couldn’t we 
use the gingerbread-man cutter and cdl 


174 


WHAT TO DO 


them Little Boy Blue or Tommy Tucker, 
or something like that?” Mother 
brought the beloved cutter triumphantly 
from the pantry. 

So the table was finished out with rows 
of fat little men covered over with glis¬ 
tening sugar. Long before the work was 
finished, Mary had asked, “Isn’t there 
something Jane and I could make all by 
ourselves for the babies?” 

As she cut the little men and lifted 
them carefully into the pan. Mother 
puckered her forehead into wrinkles of 
deep thought. Then a smile broke over 
her face and the wrinkles all ran away. 

“Indeed there is. I know the very 
nicest thing. You will enjoy doing it, 
too.” 

“What is it. Mother?” and Jane al¬ 
most upset a whole pan of little men who 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 175 

were coming warm and sweet from the 
oven. 

“Scrap-books, or rather picture 
books,” Mother told her, “big ones made 
from bright, pretty pictures. If you will 
get started now, you can soon get them 
made and they can go out with our 
cookies.” 

First, there was a stack of old maga¬ 
zines to be gone through. 

“Only colored pictures,” Mother ad¬ 
vised them, “for babies love color. Only 
* large ones, for they are not old enough 
to care for small objects. And only 
happy ones—by all means, the very hap¬ 
piest ones you can find.” 

Then she left them to their work. But 
whether it was play or work. Mother 
thought a wiser head than hers would 
have to decide. . 



176 


WHAT TO DO 


“After all,” she said to herself, as she 
wiped her big rolling-pin dry, “perhaps 
play is just work that we like to do. And 
then, too, maybe work is just play that 
we haven’t learned to enjoy,” she 
thought again as she tucked the rolling- 
pin into its corner to await another bak¬ 
ing day. 

Although they had thought at the start 
that it would be hard to find the sort of 
pictures Mother wanted, Jane and Mary 
soon found it quite easy. The larger 
magazines had such beautiful ladies on 
their covers, such fascinating babies and 
groups of children, such wonderful 
ships, such lovely flowers! Even a fat 
Santa Claus was discovered, which they 
instantly decided should be used on the 
front of one cover. Beside these, there 
were no end of smaller things to be 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 177 

tucked in between. It was great fun to 
cut them all out. 

From somewhere in her magical 
sewing-room, Mother brought a roll of 
cambric of different colors, left over 
from a day long ago when she had made 
just such a book for Big Sister. The 
width of the material was about twenty- 
seven inches, so she cut it into pieces 
fourteen inches long. Four such pieces 
would make a book of the right size, she 
told them. They would use the different 
colors together—one strip of orange, 
one yellow, one red, and one blue. And 
cutting them, she laid them all together 
to show that such an arrangement would 
make two pages of each color when they 
were sewed fast together down the cen¬ 
ter. 

While Jane and Mary played house- 



178 


WHAT TO DO 


keepers and washed the lunch dishes, 
Mother made them a pot of paste. 

“Library paste is entirely too expen¬ 
sive for such work,” was her advice. “It 
takes too much of it, so we will make 
some common paste out of flour.” 

Mary was so interested in this process 
that she made a little recipe out of the 
directions Mother gave her, to take 
home for her own use. First, one-fourth 
cup of flour was put into a pan, and to 
that was added one-half cup of cold 
water and a tablespoon of salt. This was 
stirred until not a lump could be found, 
and then, over it, was poured one cup of 
boiling water. It was cooked carefully 
over the fire for a few minutes, with con¬ 
stant stirring, until it bubbled up all 
clear and pasty-looking. 

“We will use it just as soon as it gets 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 179 

cool enough to handle,” said Mother, 
“for if it stands too long, it is more diffi¬ 
cult to spread.” 

Soon they were at work in the library, 
with small pieces of soft cloth to use in¬ 
stead of brushes when spreading the 
paste, plenty of large cloths for smooth¬ 
ing down the pictures, as well as wet 
ones for cleaning sticky hands. 

Each piece of cambric was worked on 
separately, and there was no end of 
happy discussion as to the arrangement 
of the pictures. When all were done, 
they were rather humpy-looking affairs, 
damp in many spots, but Mother made 
them right, in the funniest way—at least 
Mary and Jane thought it was funny. 
She ironed them—ironed them flat and 
dry; and what a difference it did make in 
their appearance! 



i8o WHAT TO DO 

“Almost as great a difference as it 
makes in little girls to have on smoothly- 
ironed dresses instead of mussy, crum¬ 
pled-up ones!” she laughed. 

All that needed to be done to finish the 
books was to lay the sheets one on top of 
the other and, with several strands of 
yarn, sew them together down the mid¬ 
dle with long running stitches. At the 
top and bottom. Mother tied on two fat 
yarn tassels—and there they were, two 
beautiful books that baby hands could 
not tear, filled with pictures that would 
give joy for many a day. 

And long before the twilight came. 
Mother and Mary and Jane had gone in 
the car through the streets of the town, 
past holly wreaths and Christmas trees, 
and windows filled with sparkling 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH i8i 

things, out to the Baby Fold with their 
precious gifts. 

It was wide-awake time, and from the 
windows peeped baby faces as round 
and sweet as rosebuds peeping from a 
rose arbor. Then the kindest, gentlest 
lady thanked them over and over for 
their basket and promised that each dear 
baby should have a fat sugar man for 
Christmas supper. 

“Well!” ejaculated Mary, after they 
had driven a few blocks toward home, 
“I thought I was going to feel all sorry 
and like crying about those babies, but 
goodness me! Instead of having no 
mother, it looks to me as if they have a 
lot of mothers! Why, they are as happy 
as can be!” 

“After all,” Mother answered her. 


i 82 


WHAT TO DO 


with a bright smile, “there is love enough 
to go around, isn’t there? You see, we 
sent some love into their home, and 
other people will do the same—’’ 

“Mrs. Shepherd is sending some,” in¬ 
terrupted Jane. 

“She surely is,” agreed Mother. “Love 
goes with every one of her cookies, I 
know that. So, by little and little, there 
will be all the love the babies need. Only 
we must not forget, of course, that they 
need love all the year round, as well as 
at Christmas time.” 

“May we take cookies again?” 
chirped Jane, and “May we?” echoed 
Mary. 

“Any time you find love enough in 
your hearts to help me make them,” 
Mother assured them. 

And as they drove back past the holly 


THE WHOLE YEAR THROUGH 183 

wreaths and Christmas trees, through 
the evening lights, there was a beautiful 
feeling of gladness and content deep in 
the heart of each little girl. 

























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